High Value Target
by dryskim
Summary: High above, a battle rages, lives will be lost and lives will be saved. But is the sacrifice worth the gains?
1. Let's be brief, Dave

"You've got to be joking, Boomer. SPARTANS?" Lance Corporal Peter 'Pete' Fisher whined, running a quick diagnostic on his M392 7.62mm DMR which was laid across his lap, the ODST enjoying the cold comfort of staying far away from any threats which might be bearing down on him.

"What do you got against SPARTANS anyway, Pete?" Jose 'Boomer' Ramirez spat, sitting on the edge of the command table in the center of the room, the gathered ODST prepared to be briefed shortly on the situation by their Sergeant, in the meantime, Jose was busy sharpening his knife which he kept mounted on his chestplate.

"Dude, they sent like six of our guys to the hospital, don't trust 'em." Pete replied, slamming a magazine into his freshly cleaned rifle and watched as the ammunition counter shot up to a full '15', smiling, the ODST set the rifle down before moving onto his suppressed Submachine gun which he kept for personal defense at close range.

"That's ancient history, maybe if you pulled your head out of your ass you'd understand that." Boomer said, checking the sharpness of his knife against his thumb, satisfied, he returned it to it's place on his armor before turning to his M90A shotgun.

"I figure anybody who makes my job easier is a good guy in my book," Private Andrews added, jumping into the conversation whilst running a quick check of his radio equipment.

"Shut up, Rookie. No one wants to hear your shit," Fisher shot back, watching the Private stew over his words and scrunch up his features at the insult, the Lance Corporal finding this particularly hilarious broke out laughing.

"Ah, fuck you Pete," Andrews muttered, chucking the empty soda can which was sitting next to him at the team's designated marksman. Instead, the can sailed past and slammed straight into the chestplate of the squad's grenadier, James McKinley O'Brian, commonly called Obi for short.

Looking down at the can which lay at his feet, he joked, "Jeez, didn't know I was hated this much that you guy's were to the point of throwing stuff at me."

"Don't worry about it, O'Brian. At least the Rook can throw frag grenades better then he can throw cans!" Pete added, causing the Private to turn bright red.

The trio of ODST bursting into laughter, the Private quietly turning back to his radio equipment in a pitiful effort to conceal his rosy face which would only bring on more backlash from one of Peter's jokes.

"Easy, boys. No need to piss off the one who gets you all that wonderful air support," the team's resident vehicle specialist said, running the tip of her knife under her fingertips, cool blue eyes sizing up primarily Fisher whom always instigated such cruel joke making.

"Ah, come on Cora, we was just making a couple of jokes. Nothing bad their," Fisher replied, defending his position whilst also delievering a swift jab to Andrews' ribs as he walked past to speak with their female member.

"Oh, really? I beg to differ, you've been giving poor Andrews nothing but flak since he showed up," the Sergeant replied, looking up at him, "Oh, and I'm not Cora to you, it's Sergeant Cabrera. We're on duty right now, Lance Corporal. At least act it."

This statement being followed by much ooohing from the combined force of Boomer and O'Brian, this also being silenced by another glare from the resident female. The door to the briefing room slide open, in striding the team's Sergeant whom had been given their orders presumably by the ship's captain, "Alright people, gather around, we got work to do." All talking hushed itself and the team rounded the table as the Sergeant activated the holographic map, "We've got a Covenant Carrier, as you all know, in our AO. You know what that means, Marines?"

"We gotta take it down," Jose said quietly, pointing his knife at the bulbous craft which was being displayed on the table, "Presumably from inside, where it's weakest."

"Very good, Corporal! It appears that Corporal Ramirez knows how we do things, and we all know how we're getting there. The problem is, bringing enough bomb to deal with our target. Corporal Ramirez, would you be so kind as to present our present for the Covenant?"

"With pleasure, sir." Ramirez replied with a coy grin, clicking the various snaps which held the bomb in it's protective case, the football sized weapon know as a Fury Tactical Nuclear Weapon, or as it was more commonly referred, a Tac-Nuke sitting inside.

"This is our gift to the Covenant, and as you all know, a single Tactical Nuke is powerful enough to decimate a Covenant Carrier. But their's a slight problem-" The Sergeant continued as Ramirez slowly repacked the Tactical Nuke safely inside it's carrying case.

"Getting the thing inside," Cabrera spoke up, tapping softly on her helmet with her fingertips, the red stripe down it's center slightly worn off from lengthy periods of abuse and close encounters, but somehow they'd prevailed, but something told her this wouldn't be quite as easy as before.

"Exactly. That's where our new SPARTAN friends come in," The Sergeant said, glancing back and forth at his team, "They'll be walking us and the bomb in, if we do things right, this'll be a milkrun. Insertion via SOEIV as per usual, and extraction once the bomb has been successfully armed via Pelican dropship. Any questions?"

The ensemble remaining silent, so the Sergeant concluded his briefing with a simple, "Dismissed, we drop in five."

"Gunny? May I have a word with you in private?"

"What is it, Cabrera?"

"Sir, what our odds? I mean-"

"I know exactly what you mean, Sergeant," The Gunnery Sergeant replied, slipping the solid black helmet over his head, once again becoming one of the faceless which tormented the Covenant where they least expected it, "And I'm hoping its better then what my gut is telling me."

The Sergeant watched the Gunnery Sergeant walk away and sighed, so much for the pep talk and words of wisdom she'd expected from the great Williamson she'd heard so much about. Instead, she too placed her own helmet over her head and lowered herself into the cramped pod which would rocket her to the Covenant Carrier below.


	2. Odds

"ODST's," Pedro-029 said, loading up his M90A shotgun up with 8 gauge shotshells, "Of all the people we could have got to assist us, we get stuck with ODST's."

"Well who else do you want to pick from, Colonial Militia?" Mark-220 replied, running a cloth down the length of his MA5C assault rifle before picking up the M6D Personal Defense Weapon which lay next to him, with which he repeated the process.

Pedro shrugged, "I'd rather take a bunch of half-trained Militia over a band of loco ODST's. You expect them to be much help? You can't ever get 'em to follow orders, they're too damn gung-ho for their own good."

"You could always use them for meatshields," Serrow-217 added, twirling a serrated knife in between his fingers as usual, his favoritism for close-range weaponry showing through.

Pedro laughed, "Yeah, good idea. Might make 'em useful after all."

"Ah, come on. I don't see why you guys constantly harp on them, I mean they're still on our side, we're all fighting for the same thing." Joshua-061 said, loading another can of biofoam into his thigh pouch, his M7 SMG lying nearby.

Pedro scoffed, "You ever spent more then ten minutes around a group of ODST's? They're like Drones, they work in packs, they'll tear you limb from limb if you give them the chance."

"Oh," Joshua said and shrugged before returning to reconfiguring his tacpad which was mounted on his wrist preferring to delve into fiddling with electronics instead of human interaction, technology he could understand, his teammates? Not so much.

"And I thought only Marines gossiped about eachother behind their backs,"

"Ah, come on 116. It's the truth and you know it." Pedro replied, slinging his M90A over his shoulder, the team's sniper resting on a nearby crate on which she had an M6D handgun gripped loosely in her hand, the team preferring it's compact power to that of the standard-issue M6C of most UNSC ground forces.

"It might be the truth but it doesn't mean you should engage in such behaviors," she said, pausing to flick the safety on her pistol before reattaching it to her thigh plate, "It's below you. And besides, you know what Leo said."

Pedro huffed, "Yes, I know what Leo said but that doesn't make me agree with his thoughts on it."

"You don't have to, Pedro. You just have follow my lead and everything will be fine, got it, Petty Officer First Class?" Leo said sternly, the Senior Chief Petty Officer entering the room as quietly as a mouse, Mark and Joshua falling silent at his entrance whilst Serrow continued to mess with his vast arsenal of knives, ignoring any possible drama about to occur.

"Yes, sir." Pedro replied, dejected, waiting for a the rammifications. Instead, a heavy hand was placed on his shoulder, the SPARTAN looked up, the slightly taller Senior Chief looking down at him.

"Don't worry about it, just make sure to keep things in check when we meet our new friends. No need causing an incident, the mission comes first, and that goes to all of you. We've got enough problems without having us at eachother's throats so I suggest you grab your gear and get ready while we've still got time." Leo looked around at the room of SPARTANS before turning to get his own equipment ready, selecting a BR55 HB from the arsenal, "The Covenant fear us for a reason, now let's give 'em another. We take out this Carrier, we limit their might in this sector, give us more time to set up defenses elsewhere. The more time we give our forces elsewhere, the more chances we have of winning this thing, understood?"

Silent greeted him, though he knew them well enough to know they were actively processing what he'd said, mulling over things in their minds, saying their silent prayers, pumping themselves up for the mission, he never would know what exactly was going through their minds and it didn't matter, all that mattered was success. And success was something they were known for, and he would be damned if they were going to fail now, with so much on the line, so much at stake. Failure was not an option, though if they did, they'd never live to hear about it.

"You okay, Leo? You don't seem yourself today, normally you'd be taking Pedro's side on this, not chewing him out for it."

"Rae," he said, "their is a distinctive difference between how I feel about the situation and what is best for the unit. It's part of being in command, and I wasn't chewing him out about it, I was merely making a point."

"Sounded like a good old fashioned butt chewing from where I was," she replied dryly, a slight grin spreading across her lips, half hidden by her bangs, then she reverted from that back into her serious mission-minded mode, "Sauvagine got any more data for us?"

Leo shook his head, "Nothing, just a name, presumably for the ship. Otherwise, nothing we didn't already figure out from previous bouts with the Covenant."

"Care to share, I figure that wasn't all that the AI told you," Raevynn replied, slapping a magazine into her SRS99C-S2 AM sniper rifle, knowing how chatty AI's tended to be especially when mathematics were involved or chances to prove their superior intelligence.

"Odds, she gave me the odds."

"Odds for what?"

"What do you think, Rae? I know you're smarter then that."

"Maybe." she replied another coy grin that quickly disappeared, she enjoyed pushing the Commander's buttons every now and again, "Care to expand on it anymore then that or am I going to have to ask her myself?"

Leo smirked, "I wouldn't even force my greatest foe to do that, let alone you. I trust you can keep things quiet about this?"

She gave him a mock salute, chanting, "Sir, yes, sir. Senior Chief Leo, sir."

"I could have done without the sarcasm, thank you very much." he replied, running a hand over his helmet before looking into her eyes again, "But our odds aren't looking too good, even for SPARTANS."

"So they're bad even by our standards?"

"Exactly."

"Then we maybe in a bit of a jam, Chief."


	3. Joe, it's been fun

"Hallway clear," Mark-220 said, peering around the edge of the hallway to peer down another equally purple one, thankfully, with no Covenant in sight. Acknowledging Leo's nod from behind the group, he moved forward to the kneel by the next door. With the rest of the team in position, Mark jabbed the button on the center of the door, the icon turning from a bright crimson to a cool green color to indicate it was unlocked. The door slide open to reveal two massive alien creatures, Hunters as they were commonly known, the Petty Officer barely able to warn his teammates before the pair opened fire with their Fuel Rod Cannons.

The mission had been FUBAR from the beginning, starting with Andrews and his sudden demise. Infiltration of the Carrier had been going along rather well up until then with their pods on a direct vector and the mission clock counting down to the exact minute as they had planned, that was until mechanical failures hit Andrews pod. Instead of opening like usual, Andrews' chute failed to deploy resulting in the Private impacting the Carrier at extreme speed. The pod slammed into the deck before crumpling up upon itself, the immense sound no doubt alerting the Covenant to a possible boarding action. Thankfully, the others had managed to insert successfully and without further incident.

"Form up team," Leo said, the team circling up though Fisher seemed notably apprehensive about being near the SPARTAN, Leo brushed this off as part of the man's mentality and continued, "Pedro, you still got those M168 Demo Charges?"

"Yeah," he replied, slapping one of the large explosive devices which he had strapped to his chest plate with sticky tape, "Got it right here."

"Good," Leo replied, nodding at the other SPARTAN, "You know what to do, make us an entrance. The rest of you, give him some room to work."

"Fisher, you okay? Been pretty quite lately," O'Brian said, jabbing his friend in the ribs.

"Nah, just thinkin'. 'Bout what happened to Andrews and all." Fisher replied, casting an awkward glance at Serrow who continued to twirl his knife absent mindedly mere feet from Andrews' final resting place, the Private's blood oozing out of the crack of the pod's door onto the outer decking of the Carrier. Serrow, seemingly sensing he was being watched looked up, however, like before he continued to spin his knife in silence.

"Didn't think you like Andrews," O'Brian said, watching the Hispanic SPARTAN fiddle with the M168 a bit more before giving the Senior Chief Petty Officer a thumbs up to indicate his work was finished, the SCPO. returning the gesture.

"Just because I didn't like him doesn't mean I wanted him to die, especially not like this, I mean, he has a fuckin' kid and a wife back home," Fisher said, glancing back at O'Brian, the silver visor offering no comfort at all, "You know what I mean?"

"Yeah, but we've all got people waiting on us back home, it isn't just him."

"I guess you're right.." Fisher replied quietly, the sound of the M168 exploding subsequently also drowning out anything he may have said.

The hole which Pedro had created wasn't exactly what Serrow had been expecting when he'd heard the word, 'entrance'. To call such a creation was to insult entrances the world over, what had been made was an over exaggerated hole in the hull. The hole opening up into the ship's maintenance tunnels which ran the length of the Carrier, giving the team access to most of the vessel without having to deal with the no doubt heavy Covenant presence within.

"It'll be a tight fit," Leo muttered, Gunnery Sergeant Williamson by his side, "Williamson, you think one of your men might be able to fit inside there?"

Williamson nodded, glancing at Fisher before gesturing at the hole, "You think you're up to it, Lance Corporal?"

Fisher nodded, "Yeah, I think I'll be fine."

Withdrawing his M7S from it's position on his hip, Fisher approached the edge of the hole before lowering himself down feet first, ironically the ODST creed. He gave the Gunnery Sergeant a quick salute before dropping entirely into the abyss. The Lance Corporal's boots thunked against the plating beneath him as he hit the floor below, stretching in both directions unending darkness. Thankfully, the M7S featured an under barrel mounted flashlight which the Lance Corporal promptly toggled to the 'on' position, it's light panning across the purple walls before he turned back to the rest of the team , "It's clear, you guys I'll be fine once you're past the hole, might be a tight squeeze but you'll be alrig-"

His comment being cut off as the Lance Corporal was thrown off his feet by a fast moving, insectoid creature, the thing clawing at his chest plate before the LCPL threw it off and put a round in it's head, "Shit, looks like we got a Drone infestation!" This being answered by the buzzing of dozens more awoken Drones, all coming to find the source of the disturbance, "Pull me up, pull me up!"

Serrow threw himself to the decking, his gargantuan arm fishing around for the ODST's outstretched hand, finding the hand, and the buzzing growing louder, the SPARTAN heaved. The sound of a suppressed M7 echoing through the tunnels, the sounds of dead Drone's hitting the floor, the sound of Fisher's grunts of pain as the Drone's slashed at his exposed body, the matte black bodysuit only providing so much protection. Finally, Fisher's ragged body appeared in the light, the Drones continuing claw at his body, occasional spatters of blood flecking onto Serrow's visor and arms as the Drones continued their bloody assault. Finally, the Lance Corporal lost both his grip on Serrow's hand and his grip on life, his eyes rolling back inside his head before his limp body dropped to the metal catwalk below.

A particularly fearless Drone came flying out of the darkness and straight at the SPARTAN's visor, massive cyborg lashing out with a jab with caved in the front of the instect looking alien's face, not waiting for another of it's kind to attack him as well, the SPARTAN primed a pair of naplam grenades of which he'd brought along for just this kind of situation. The two small cylinders dropped down into the darkness after the body of the Drone, exploding into a massive fireball on impact with the floor with incinerated the mass of winged aliens mingling below.

"It's clear," Serrow said over his shoulder, Leo nodding solemnly before waving the rest of the squad forward, the German SPARTAN prying on the decking in order to widen the hole to allow access for the other SPARTANs.

Mark held up his fist, the team dropping to a kneel at the signal, "We're here. Pedro, mind giving me a hand with this grate?" The resident demolitions expert moving forward to assist in the removal whilst the rest of the ODST squad was safely in between the two lead scouts and Serrow's massive form which managed to almost entirely seal off the tunnel behind him, Raevynn sitting immediately in front of him.

"I think you've sacred our ODST friends a good deal," she said, the team's private channel coming to life with her voice, the soft grunting of Mark and Pedro's combined effort the only other sound on the line.

"How so?" Serrow asked, his voice blunt and to the point, that's all he was, he was the team's blunt instrument of death, whilst the others might be more subtle, none were more effective.

"The fact that you succeeded in both covering yourself in their friend's blood and then eradicating his mutilated corpse with well placed napalm," she replied, checking her M6D's smart link scope to confirm it was still functional, but more so as a time killer while they waited.

"Yeah, once again the big man improves team relations by killing everything in sight with jellied gasoline," Pedro said with a soft chuckle, slapping Mark on the back of the helmet before telling him to 'put his back into it'.

Mark scowled under his helmet before one final heave ripped the grating loose and he moved it to the side, "We're in," he said before dropping down threw the opening followed closely by Pedro, both sweeping their weapons back and forth before calling back, "We're clear, you're good to come down."

This all clear was followed by Leo dropping down as well, then Sergeant Cabrera, Corporal O'Brian, Sergeant Ramirez then Joshua, Raevynn, and lastly, Serrow.

"Welcome to your friendly neighborhood Covenant Carrier, alien weaponry and other face-melter's are to your immediate left, life support and other important shit to blow up is to your immediate right, thank you for shopping Covenant," O'Brian muttered happily, receiving odd glances from most of the SPARTAN team, "What? It's how I cope, don't judge me."

"You cope by making stupid comments which could easily give our position away?" Raevynn asked, aiming her magnum down the hallway to their six whilst Mark moved on to check the one directly in front of them.

"They're not stupid, I prefer the term witty."

"You could at least try and be original about it," Raevynn shot back, a slight smile gracing her features beneath her helmet.

"Can it you two," Leo scolded, O'Brian immediately shrinking down at the comment whilst Raevynn merely returned to watching her door, "Mark, status?"

"Hallway clear," Mark replied.

(God, I'm so clever starting in the middle before working my way back to the point I started. I'm a god of writing, no, not really. Fanciful boasting which are mostly lies aside, this is part 3 and people are already dead. Yeah. Hopefully, this was an enjoyable experience for all.)


	4. Almost there, almost

"Shit, Mark is down!" Pedro shouted, dropping to a knee with his Spartan Laser readied, the Hunters lurking just out of his visual range behind a thick plate of the ship's bulkhead, meaning if the SPARTAN wanted a clear shot at them he'd be putting himself at risk as well, "Damnit! They're hiding like the cowardly sonsofbitches they are!"

"Or maybe they're finally developing their own combat doctrine which is uninfluenced by the Prophet's," Joshua chimed in, unpinning a pair of fragmation grenades from his belt and tossing them into Pedro's waiting hands, subconsciously knowing the Latinos plan for dealing with the Hunters.

"Alright, we're gonna flush 'em out," Pedro said, holding up the grenades to the assembled squad of ODST's, "Ramirez, I want you on that SPNKr immediately, don't give 'em a chance to shoot back."

Ramirez nodded, switching to the rocket launcher in place of his usual Assault Rifle.

"Soon as these grenades go off, we storm that hangar." Leo added, going over the feed from Pedro's helmet as the other SPARTAN peered around the corner, as the SPARTAN hefted the pair of grenades, "NOW!"

The thunder of nine pairs of boots reverberated through the hallway as the squad and the Hunter pair simultaneously leapt from cover to engage their foes, automatic weapons fire and explosions riddling the hangar.

Leo slid into cover next to the ODST grenadier, O'Brian, the young Corporal popping out of cover to engage targets and occasionally insult his opponents, "How we doing team?"

"Me and Serrow have got the right side covered, sir." Raevynn radioed, dropping another target with her sniper rifle before slamming another magazine into the breach.

"Serrow and I," Joshua corrected before finishing off a wounded Elite with a short controlled burst from his MA5K, whilst the ODST's sprayed away like mad bandits.

"Sergeant Cabera, give me covering fire!" Williamson ordered, racking the bolt on his MA5B, "I'll flank around!"

Cora nodded, popping out of cover with her M7 SMG blazing away at the behemoth alien, trying to draw it's fire from the Gunnery Sergeant. The alien now divided among two targets was easy pickings for the rest of the fire team, especially Ramirez's SPNKr and Pedro's Spartan Laser.

"Position clear," Pedro called out, his smoking M90A hanging by his side as he surveyed the hangar bay and the mounds of alien corpses littering the floor.

"Affirmative," Leo replied, motioning for the demolition expert to take point on the second phase of the operation, "Everyone still intact?"

"Looks like the buggers nicked me," Joshua muttered, limping up to the Senior Chief with a bloodied side which he clutched with his left hand whilst his right held his rifle.

Leo eyed the wound momentarily before saying, "Damn..you still combat effective?"

Joshua shook his head slightly, both an act of shame and admittance of defeat, "No, sir. I can fight, but this isn't a stationary conflict, I'll just be slowing you down."

"Understood," Leo replied, placing a hand on the SPARTAN's shoulder, "Williamson, mind leaving one of your men behind to assist in holding this position?"

Williamson nodded, glancing over at the squad's resident grenadier before more forcefully urging the trooper to move, "Get your ass over there Obi, show 'em how the ODST's do it!"

"Oorah."

"Great, you left the bloody idiot to keep me company," Joshua said through the teams private comm channel, causing a soft chuckle from the Senior Chief, "Oh, and sir? Good luck out there."

"Alright, people. This is it,"

"Time to run the gauntlet, already?" Pedro asked jokingly, though the way he was loading his shotgun emphasized his seriousness, Leo could almost sense it, "Figured we'd be running this once we got the bomb planted."

Leo shook his head, "No time, Admiral wants this op done, now."

"Shit, he's sending us to our damn deaths here," Pedro retorted, kicking one of the Covenant space crates with a heavy booted foot, "Useless bastard!"

"Easy, Pedro. No need to freak out the ODST's before the big finish," Raevynn said softly, racking the slide on her M6D magnum handgun preferring the compact hand cannon for close quarters over her rifle.

"Yeah, you always liked the big finish," Serrow muttered before recieving an elbow to the gut.

"You pervert!"

Leo sighed, "Somethings never change."

"Cabera, you ready for this?" Gunnery Sergeant Williamson asked whilst the team's female member went about prepping her M7 SMG.

"Sir, are you questioning my ability to perform up to par?" she asked, glancing up into the faceless visor.

"Not at all, I'm just-"

"Checking up on me?"

"No, I-"

"Sir, as much as I appreciate the offer, I can handle myself without your help." The redhead taking this as her cue to to break off for the other side of the hangar where the rest of the team were preparing.

"Ya win some, you lose some, Gunny," Ramirez said jokingly, patting the Gunnery Sergeant on the back, the Gunnery Sergeant merely shrugging off the token of friendship and continued on his own, stewing about something the demolitions expert didn't quite understand, "What the hell'd I just miss?"

**(Since in hindsight, I realized that merging this and the following chapter into one massive 'ending' block would come off extremely messily and awkward, I have decided instead to deliever it in two parts, with the finale and the 'Charge of The Light Brigade' making up the next chapter.)**


End file.
